


Riders in the Night

by SpankedbySpike



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demiromantic Stiles Stilinski, Developing Friendships, Dreams and Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Steter Secret Santa, Survival, Survivor Guilt, The Steter Network, Worried Peter, Worried Stiles Stilinski, Worth It, demiromantic peter hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 03:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpankedbySpike/pseuds/SpankedbySpike
Summary: The Ghost Riders are in town, ready to erase Beacon Hills from the map and most of the story as we know it happens, until the little tweak at the end...This is the moment in time where both Stiles and Peter really look at each other, at what they both bring to the table and how they could complete the other's life. It's a revelation and a matter of acceptance for sure...





	1. In light of...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissMartian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMartian/gifts).



> **Author Note:** This is my first time writing a Steter Relationship (as a pinch writer too) and I want to apologize in advance if it doesn’t fulfill the expectation of the wonderful fan Miss Martian that suggested this lovely prompt. 
> 
> I sure hope that those of you taking the time to read the story will find something to appreciate in it. Con-crits and comments are welcome and encouraged as it may help me decide to write a bit more in that fandom or decide to just let it be filled by more inspired authors contributing in the Teen Wolf Steter vault :-)
> 
>  **Special thanks to ficwriterjet** for the beta work, she is fabulous, inspired and didn’t mind reviewing this work right before the Holidays, I can’t thank her enough and if you enjoy this read it’s much thanks to her eye for the details.
> 
> Also thank you to the Mods that put this Secret Santa project together while battling the issues fandom faces on Tumblr. It makes for fantastic reads and I am far from being the only one enjoying them!

*** PART 1 ***

Things had sucked in Peter’s life for what seemed like forever now. He always played a good game, putting on his snarky face, joking at the most inopportune and inappropriate times, hiding his upsets but this ought to stop at some point! Honestly, he didn’t have to create a list of all the fucked up things that happened to him to know that getting stuck in a different dimension and a freaking railway station waiting to head to oblivion couldn’t end up well.

Of course it had to be Stiles that made him aware of the situation; the little shit always was good at figuring things out but what the heck? Peter was strong, and cunning, but the situation with the Riders was incredibly overwhelming.

Step by step, they explored this stupid station, and with every arrival or departure, they knew more than before. What really sucked was how powerful the Riders were. Peter wasn’t used to be that low on the totem pole of Supernatural creatures roaming his world; what was the point of being the villain if they could overpower his mind, his were side, his will?

Everything about the Riders was upsetting his inner being. The fact that they had no leaders for starters, there was nothing more grating to his Alpha frame of mind. However, he had a grudging appreciation of their work as a team, and stubbornly admired the fact that they could be as successful as a wolf pack was, not that he’d seen many of those lately.

 

That was where Stiles came in. Void Stiles had been a force to be reckoned with, and the person that emerged now, sure of his strength, and certain of his allies, was positively easier to admire. The kid was bound to be plagued by nightmares, maybe as many as he had, but he was moving forward. The teen's mind, working a hundred miles a minute; made connections most other people couldn't, and he had a shrewdness that was so like his own that rather than being appalled by it, he felt it calling to him, like a moth to a flame.

Together though, magic happened. Always. Neither of them wastes time judging the other, instead building upon each other's smarts, and the multi-layered arcane knowledge they accumulated. Suddenly, Peter didn’t have to feel powerless once more. He may not have all the answers but he had a reason now to be proactive, to reclaim the power he didn’t even realize had been stripped of him.

And that is what brought light to his long standing darkness. Stiles understood the one thing he couldn’t live with; being a has-been, letting others walk all over him, having no leading purpose, or strength to follow the path he carved for himself.

 

Since Stiles arrived, no codes or rules seemed to limit their behaviors; just as Peter liked it. That sense of defiance radiating from Stiles was just so alluring, the werewolf kept thinking about all the things he loved about the young man, and how much of himself he was recognizing in the human.

It wasn’t going to be easy to get him to see Peter as a potential hook-up but Peter had no doubt that he could crank up the charm, if not the snark, to have Stiles notice him and his interest. Of course, at this point, it wasn’t the most urgent of things. Surviving was primordial, but suddenly, what should have been a dramatic life and death situation, was merely a challenge; one that he had no doubt they would overcome.

The more time they were spending together, the more confident he became in their chance of success.

 

*** PART 2 ***

Stiles couldn’t believe it. Out of all the people he could have met or recognized, creeper wolf had to be it. He should stop calling Peter that; after all he isn’t creepier than most of the things they’ve been battling in Beacon Hills these past years. Plus he kind of killed the guy, and well, now he feels a bit uncomfortable with that.

In any case, the good news was that, like him, Peter wasn’t the kind of guy to wait around for things to happen. If push came to shove they would move the world around, and they would turn this place upside down, but they would find a way out.

And Stiles wasn’t afraid to come up with plans, one after the other, not afraid of failures. He'd learned from Peter that a fiasco is nothing more than a disappointment on the path to survival, and some new definition of success.

 

There was nothing better in his mind that pairing up with Peter god damn Hale when the tough got going. Because if there was one thing he could trust the werewolf to do was to find a way to survive. If Scott had been there he would have cast a doubt on the escapade they were trying to pull, bringing in some of the insane actions of the born wolf but now Stiles was another man, one that had to fight his own demons, a freaking consciousness older than time occupying his mind and body, showing the buried dark side he was as capable of letting loose.

Yes Stiles wasn’t the Nogitsune, he wasn’t deranged, he wasn’t a psychopath, but he also wasn’t naïve or beyond the idea of sacrificing a pawn or two along the way. At some point in one’s life, one has to admit that the end certainly may justify the means, and who better than Peter to have his back on this treacherous path? It was dangerous and unhealthy but so exhilarating!

The Ghost Riders were the kind of enigma he would have given much to be able to read about. As a concept, they were simply fascinating. Having to fight against the tidal wave though was a whole new ball game, adding scars to the hidden ones they both carried, making him drown in doubt, forcing him to rely on someone else's wit, on someone else's perspective and warped perception. Shocking altogether!

 

There was something fulfilling in working with someone as ruthless as Peter Hale. There was such awareness between them, a sense of trepidation always present in the undercurrent of their public display of antagonism that Stiles didn’t know how to label, assess, or manage. He wouldn’t be caught dead showing respect and appreciation for Peter's suggestions and approach to things, yet he recognized a bit of himself in the ex-Alpha. Given the circumstances, the Argent's unrelenting determination to wipe the Hales of the surface of the earth, he couldn’t fathom coming out of such confrontation sane or the least bit cordial either.

But this was neither here nor there… They had a blank slate to use, just had to put their heads together and make the impossible possible; get back to Beacon Hills, save the day, have a chance at a future rather than disappearing in the ether, lost and never remembered


	2. Facing the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up to a few choice revelations...

*** PART 3 ***

 

Fire and brimstone… Could things get any worse? How often should Peter defy the odds, live up to the challenges and be threatened by fire?

There was a blessing in being alone, in his own mind, choosing what he wanted to think about, refusing to face the world, negating the fact he was abandoned once again. Peter was healing. Slowly but surely. He refused to doubt the outcome of the final fight, he even refused to fathom the idea that the few people left in his world to care about wouldn’t have survived. The fact is though that he’d been holed up here for ages.

Cheating death has one upside though; plenty of time to daydream, to wish and to hope.

Getting burned was starting to become a habit, a bad one.

And that road paved with good intentions had to start somewhere… In a muddled mind… In a feverish body… In an inappropriate suggestion… In an indecent thought… Even in an innocent touch… 

Peter liked the slow strokes scraping his nape. It felt like petting, something he’d never confess to if he was in his right mind but no one was asking him anything, so he just let everything else be drowned and enjoyed it, falling asleep peacefully, for once.

The nightmares were vivid and getting him to toss and turn around, so yes the light towel wiping the cold sweats breaking through was welcome, and soothing.

The dreams were more disturbing, not because Peter was overwhelmed by the sensuality of them, no. Simply because in them Stiles was beyond beautiful, taking charge in a way that everyone he knew would label a delusion. Isn’t it great that it is only in his mind? So why not reveal in it? Get all these endorphins kicking?

 

When Peter finally regained full consciousness, he was alone. In a bed well made. In a place he did not recognize. Getting up and to the bathroom was slow work, with everything around him spinning on some form of warped axis. Thankfully the wall by his right was sturdy enough to be followed and hold him up. He sat on the toilet just to get his breathing under control, to wait until his muscles stopped trembling, to swallow a few times more and not feel his mouth so parched. And only then did he notice the indications that someone else was sharing this space with him. A pair of jeans laid abandoned behind the door, a crumbled towel was shoved on the side of the countertop and no one had put the cap back on the toothpaste! Heathens were afoot, or at least teenagers from what he could deduce. 

He tried to get his sense of smell to pick up but the only thing he could recognize was Stiles, and there was no way to know if it was because he was the last person of the pack he had been around with, or if it was because his mind was too messed up to scent things right.

He pushed a dollop of toothpaste on his finger and proceeded to quickly brush his teeth and rinse his mouth, feeling slightly less nauseous. He finished by splashing some cold water on his face, running his wet fingers through his hair, bringing a semblance of order to his locks, refusing to look at the mirror, to acknowledge even more potential scars.

 

Leaving the room behind, he went to explore his surroundings, and wished he would have been surprised to see Stiles asleep on the sofa of the living room, at the end of the corridor. The boy was all limbs, all over the sofa, his shirt riding up his torso and exposing a slither of pale skin to the ambient cold air. 

Peter dropped to his knees next to him just to verify with all his senses that Stiles was well, alive, and really here. He had lived through visions and nightmares before and he knew that reality to a troubled mind was something that could never be taken for granted. So yes his fingers ghosted over the young teen's face, happy to feel his breath over them, he lightly pushed a few strands away from his face to appreciate the flawlessness of the traits, the absence of wounds. It was a few minutes later that he decided to get back to the room and grab the covers to bring them over the sleeping human, concern for him suddenly quite significant.

Sitting against the sofa, with one of Stiles arm dropping over his shoulders, Peter started to reflect. There were many ways to cope with tragedy, not many available to werewolves though. He couldn’t drown his issues into alcohol, he never smoked, he couldn’t run in the preserve whenever and however he wanted, there was no calling that special someone for a booty call, there was just one thing to do: face the music.

 

He loved Stiles, maybe not in a conventional way but it still was one of this all encompassing emotion, he didn’t have to hide from. He admired the boy that became such a strong man, such a capable leader. He still wanted something else though, something that he wasn’t sure he could get and he was already certain he couldn’t live without. He needed to be adored, he needed to be the most important person for someone else. Whoever he picked to be in his life would get his undivided attention and he needed the same kind of love back. He needed to trust that he will be picked over anyone else. 

For most people, one needed to meet an often arbitrary standard of morality to be considered worth loving, so that people and pack could root for them, so that the universe would actually deem their value high enough to qualify for those few and rare happy endings it bestow on the best of them. To his knowledge, Peter was nowhere near this threshold, but thinking about it, Stiles wasn’t either. He wouldn’t throw the Nogitsune at him, or even bring back the mighty Molotov cocktail that the frighten teen had thrown his way but there was a determination in Stiles that reflected his. If what needed to be done was on the dark side of the path, he’d take it without a second thought.

Another problem he could foresee was that the Sheriff's son was loyal, going boldly above and beyond whatever was needed, and Peter was selfish, doing just enough to assure his own protection but not specifically going out of his way to save others when there was no benefit to himself. How could they reconcile these opposite tendencies? Would Peter be able to change for a lover, for this young man? Was there an altruistic fiber in his bones to satisfy the inspiring behavior Stiles always demonstrated? His head started spinning and he laid back against the sofa cushion and Stiles hip, breathing in his scent, reassuring his weary brain that somehow they had survived the train station from hell and they’d survive whatever else is thrown their way. 

He closed his eyes, just for a few minutes, just to calm his thoughts.

 

*** PART 4 ***

 

Stiles stirred, feeling somehow too hot and kicking the covers. He quickly realize something else was holding the corners in, Peter Hale's head lolling as he moved, yet still sound asleep. He settled back on the sofa, surprised by how fast the panic was quenched, aware that he was safe and that there was no impending crisis to resolve. He threw an arm over his eyes, wondering how he ended up back home, nursing Peter Hale to health.

Where was Scott's mom when they really needed her? It was a moot point anyway, Stiles wouldn’t have let anyone else try to take care of his creeper wolf. Really, he had to stop calling Peter that cause, he’d been playing ball for quite a while. And anyway he’d seen his share of drama, the older man certainly was more in need of yummy sugar and spice and everything nice at this point. Stiles' arm had fallen asleep, and as he moved it up and down, he took a moment to run his hand through Peter’s hair reveling in the sub vocal purring rumbling from the werewolf's chest. He’d first heard it weeks ago, when Peter was still in and out, buried under a mountain of pain, and now it was just such a pleasure to hear. He wondered if maybe Peter put a spell on him, to make him addicted to the sound coming from the larger man's chest.

 

All of this was just too confusing. He spent years of his life thinking he wanted to feel what consumed his friend Scott, love. Not lust, not interest, not fascination… real love. Of course that meant knowing what it was; being able to recognize the emotion when it was facing you, and reaching out no matter how scary the prospect was. The point was that he still didn’t know how to interpret what he felt. It wasn’t a conversation he was eager to have with his dad or his best friend. He had to rely on his observation and that was terrifying. He had been infatuated with Lydia but she seemed to be doing so well with Parish. He couldn’t have predicted that they would be so good together but who knows? He had a fling with this man daughter for god sake, and yes that had been fulfilling but was it the kind of relationship that would sustain you in life and death situation? Nope. 

So, what made him think of Peter as someone he wanted to spend time with? He didn’t even know if he was gay? Did it matter? Actually was Peter even interested in him? And if he was, why? All of this was quite intimidating and even though Stiles wasn’t afraid to face the unknown, and all types of supernatural forces, reflecting on his feelings was a bit new, and not having a way to be certain of the outcome was slightly terrifying. Nevertheless, he’s never backed down from a challenge and this was one he should be able to tackle.

 

Until then, he was still a bit of a trickster and decided to wake up the werewolf the best possible way and put a finger in his ear to tickle him awake. The jump was a thing of beauty that he would laugh about for weeks to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for supporting fanfic writers! You certainly make our day!!!


	3. Life's new chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With time, things can get better... Never despair!

 

*** PART 5 ***

 

They were sitting at the small kitchenette table, nothing as good as what Peter would have wanted to share with the young man of course. He was now aware of how this whole thing with the Ghost Riders went down. They were facing each other and had nothing else to add. The silence stretched broken by sips of their drinks, coffees getting cold in the mismatched cups, minds pre-occupied.

“Thank you Stiles,” Peter finally managed, “You got me back, mostly in one piece and helped me stay safe. I don’t know how to say it but thank you.” He put his hand over Stiles and squeezed it once, conveying the gratitude he felt and not wanting to make the moment heavier than it already was.

 

Stiles turned his palm up and held on, stopping his retreating fingers. “I couldn’t have left you behind, and I may not express myself as well as I should, but I don’t really want a future that you're not a part of either,” he declared, locking eyes with the werewolf. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was an announcement of intent, and that was good enough for Peter. 

Maybe the gods were with them, but it seemed that Peter Hale was on the same wave length as Stiles, because the smile that spread on his lips was contagious and Stiles responded without a hesitation. Welcoming the chance he saw opening for them, Peter seized the moment and pressed his lips to the boy's in a brief kiss. 

It wasn’t meant to be a shattering kiss, or one that was going to convey all the feelings known to man, it was just one he couldn’t hold back. It was one kiss that Peter didn’t want to miss, to have to regret one day, one breath that had to be his.

Stiles though, he surprised him once more. He leaned forward as Peter retreated; seeking more of that minute connection, following that sweet anguish of the first kiss shared with a ticklish lick to his parched lips. There was a longing so unexpected in that gesture; it fissured the dam that Peter always hid behind.

And as he moved closer to the young man and exhaled, his soul opening to all the possibilities, aware that having Stiles return his kiss enthusiastically meant the surrender he had crave for, Peter finally closed his eyes and dared to hope. “Welcome home,” Stiles whispered before tilting his head and offering his neck to Peter, delighting in the small nip that followed.

 

*** PART 6 ***

 

Months have passed and the world was never the same. But when was it ever? Everyone lives with expectations too high to be realistic; Peter and Stiles though had spent so much time living day to day without being given an opportunity to dream about better days, that all expectations were about finding that special light in the eyes of their lover when waking up in each other's embrace.

Sometimes the expectations move in leaps and bounds because of the little presents they pepper at the breakfast table, or the driver seat, or even their pockets. Every once in a while, it’s because the rarest of things happen, and lost heroes are afforded a second chance. A forgiveness so big, and a prospect so unique to make the world a better place, that it finally makes sense to open their hearts to love and hope, and accept the glimmer of that better tomorrow.

So yes, in the history books and the annals of Beacon Hill there is now an entry for the Hale-Stilinski stint in the station from hell, and their heroic contribution to saving the town. Much less is said about them finding each other and building a life together, but that’s for another story that will be written much later.

 

The End.

 

_Happy Steter Holidays Miss Martian :-)_

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT:  
>  _Anything you do want in a gift? Feelings reveal, getting together, rescuing each other, sugarsaddy au, fluff and sass -_  
>  _Anything you don't want in a gift (ex: kinks you don't like, triggers, etc): Rape, slave/master au, ageplay, suicidal ideation -_
> 
>  
> 
> **Thank you for reading and Happy Holidays to all!**


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